


Green & Silver: Year 1

by NymerosMartell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Lucretia Prewett, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), F/M, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, Identity Issues, Internal Conflict, Prejudice Against Slytherins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NymerosMartell/pseuds/NymerosMartell
Summary: Gwen Prewett is Ron Weasley’s childhood friend and cousin, but her life gets turned upside down when she is unexpectedly sorted into Slytherin. But after becoming an outcast at Hogwarts, she slowly learns to follow her own path. Draco Malfoy is rich, has the right name, two loving parents and a group of loyal cronies. For him, life is simple -- until he meets Gwen.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Ron Weasley & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	Green & Silver: Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking at the Black Family Tree one day (as one does), and was intrigued by the marriage of Ignatius Prewett and Lucretia Black (aka Molly’s uncle and Sirius’ aunt), and then this monster was born.
> 
> This will follow the HP series through Gwen's POV, and each year will be centered around one Slytherin trait (self-preservation, resourcefulness, fraternity, pride, cunning, determination, and ambition). Years 1-4 will be pretty short and then 5-7 will be much longer, especially since I might add a few chapters from Draco's POV.

_self-preservation:_ protection of oneself from harm or destruction

* * *

Guinevere Prewett swore under her breath and weaved her trolley through the congested platform at King’s Cross Station with impressive agility. She abruptly stopped between platforms nine and ten, momentarily gazing up at the dividing barrier before a tall witch, with a notably aristocratic bearing, placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

There was no doubt that Lucretia Prewett bore a striking resemblance to her beloved granddaughter. But while the crisp autumn wind had blown several black curls out of the girl’s thick plait to frame her dusky complexion, the older woman’s own dark curls were interspersed with silver streaks and twisted away from her pale face into an elegant knot.

“Ready, Gwen?” The eleven year old nodded in reply, and shut her eyes as the two passed through the solid brick wall. On the other side, there was only one platform which ran parallel to a huge scarlet train. Gwen immediately started searching for her best friend.

“I don’t see him, Gran.”

“He’ll be here soon enough. Merlin knows how Molly does this every year,” Lucretia replied. “Come on, let’s find a compartment for you two.”

Gwen watched as older students eagerly boarded the train to find their friends, while the younger ones seemed reluctant to part from their parents.

“Were you nervous for your first year?” she asked, nearing the end of the platform. Lucretia gently took hold of Gwen’s smaller hands in reassurance.

“Of course, dear, it’s perfectly normal. I’d be concerned if you weren’t nervous.”

“You mean Dad was nervous too?” Her dark brown eyes grew wide with disbelief.

“Yes…in fact,” Lucretia’s own dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “I distinctly remember him refusing to let go of my cloak. I had to let him keep it when your granddad practically pushed him through the door.” Gwen giggled at the mental image of her brave Gryffindor father clutching his mother’s cloak like a safety blanket.

“Pippa always teased him for that, but she wasn’t much better either,” Lucretia paused before continuing. “They both desperately wanted to see you off, but the Ministry—”

“I know,” Gwen said softly. “I’m glad you’re here though.”

“Well, you don’t sit on the Wizengamot for nearly forty years without earning certain privileges,” Lucretia winked. “And no matter what happens, Ron will be right there with you. So you’ll always have at least one good friend to lean on, should you need it.”

Gwen smiled, feeling a little less on edge as she pulled out a treat to feed her snowy owl, Shadowfax. He was proud and wickedly fast — so she named him after the majestic white steed of Gandalf, a fictional wizard from her favourite tale. Her uncle Arthur gave her a copy of _The Hobbit_ , a very popular muggle book which he had found on one of his raids — though some wizards believed it was written by a squib with a passion for ancient runes.

“WENNIEKINS!” A pair of red-headed twins shouted out to her in unison.

“I told you never to call me that! Especially in public!” Gwen yelled, growing flustered.

“You should know by now, little coz—” George began, grinning widely.

“—that we never do as we’re told,” Fred finished.

“Ugh!”

“Hello Fred, George,” Lucretia said, smiling at their antics.

“Hi Aunt Lucy,” they cheerfully greeted back.

“Where’s Ron?” Gwen asked impatiently.

“So cruel is our dear cousin,” George put a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “Are we so easily expendable?”

“He was right behind us,” Fred remarked. “Maybe the barrier rejected him.”

A few minutes after the twins ran off to find Lee Jordan and his tarantula, Gwen finally spotted another red-headed boy, who stuck out high above the other first years running late. She quickly ran up to him and lightly punched his shoulder.

“About time, Ron. There’s only one compartment left!”

“Sorry Gwen,” he said, sheepishly. “Mum had to help a muggle-born get through the barrier. Poor sod would’ve been totally lost if we weren’t there.”

She led him to the end of the train, passing a round-faced boy who looked close to tears as he frantically searched for something.

“Hi Aunt Lucy,” Ron chirped.

“Hello! Merlin, how you’ve grown! I reckon you’ll surpass Fred and George soon,” Lucretia exclaimed. Ron slightly puffed out his chest at the compliment when his mum and little sister caught up to them.

“Ron, there you are! Hello, Gwen dear — oh Lucretia!” Molly said, looking relieved. “You haven’t seen Percy, Fred, or George, have you?”

“The twins are just helping a small boy with his trunk, but I haven’t seen Percy.”

“Good, well, Perce knows to come find us before the train leaves.” The Weasley matriarch pulled out a handkerchief and grabbed Ron’s chin.

“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose.” She rubbed his nose as he tried wiggling out of her grasp.

“Mum, gerroff—”

“Ooh, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?”

“Shut up, Fred.”

Soon after, Percy strode up to the group, having already changed into his Hogwarts robes. A shiny silver badge with the letter “P” featured prominently on his chest.

“Hello Gwen, Aunt Lucretia,” he politely greeted. “Can’t stay long, Mother. I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" George said, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea.”

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," Fred interrupted. “Once—"

"Or twice—"

"A minute—"

"All summer—"

"Oh, shut up.”

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?"

"Because he's a prefect," Molly said fondly. She would always deny it, but everyone knew that Percy was her favourite son. "All right, dear, well, have a good term. Send me an owl when you get there.” She kissed him on the cheek and turned to the twins.

"Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've blown up a toilet or—“

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet.”

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum.”

"It's not funny. And look after Ron and Gwen."

"Don't worry, little Gwennie and ickle Ronniekins are safe with us.”

“Fred, not my hair, you brute! And I’m _not_ little!” Gwen whined from his playful headlock, irritated that she’d have to fix her plait for the fifth time that morning.

"Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?” Fred teased.

"You know that boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?” George egged on.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!” Gwen gasped. She had always been aware they were the same age, but it was still a shock to be reminded that she would attend Hogwarts with the Boy Who Lived.

"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mummy, please…" Ginny pleaded, eagerly pulling on Molly's cardigan.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."

"Poor dear — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform.” A loud whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" Molly said, and four children clambered onto the train. Gwen stuck her head out of the window so her gran could kiss her goodbye.

“Remember to write to us at least once a week! Study hard, and stay out of trouble.”

“I will!” Her gran knew her too well. However, Ginny started to cry when she realised she’d be alone for the first time in her life.

“Oh Gin," Gwen reassured. "It’ll be Christmas before you know it."

“Yeah, and we'll send you a Hogwarts' toilet seat too."

“George!" Molly admonished.

"Only joking, Mum.” Gwen waved out the window until the train rounded the corner.

“Anyone sitting here?" Ron asked. "Everywhere else is full.” A scrawny black-haired boy shook his head, and they sat down across from him when the twins appeared in the doorway.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train,” Fred told them. “Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” Ron mumbled, suddenly looking slightly anxious.

“Harry, did we introduce ourselves? I’m George Weasley, this is Fred. Our brother over there is Ron, and Gwen’s our cousin. See you later, then.”

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out, and the boy nodded. _This is Harry Potter?_ Gwen had a million ideas of what he might be like, but she never imagined he would be this quiet, or wear clothes that looked at least six sizes too large for him. He didn’t even seem to be fed properly.

“Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," Ron admitted. "And have you really got — you know…” Gwen smacked him on the arm when he pointed at Harry's forehead, but Harry obligingly pulled back his bangs to show the famous lightning scar.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who—?”

“Yes, but I can’t remember it.”

“Nothing?” Ron questioned. Gwen mentally facepalmed, since she was fairly certain that Harry would rather not talk about the night he lost his parents in front of two people he just met.

“Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.”

“Woah!” Ron stared for a few moments, before Gwen decided she had better intervene.

“Ron! Stop it!”

“What? I’m not doing anything!”

“I’m sure Harry doesn’t like being stared and pointed at, with people asking him about You-Know-Who all the time.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” Harry said quickly, before changing the subject. “Are your families all wizards?”

“Er — yeah, I think so,” Ron answered. “I think we’ve got a distant cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”

“So you must know loads of magic already!”

“Not really,” Gwen replied. “We might know a little more about our world, but none of us get wands until our Hogwarts letter and muggle-borns always learn quick enough.” Harry seemed to visibly relax at that information.

“I heard you went to live with muggles,” Ron chimed in.

"Horrible — well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," Ron said, looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was Quidditch captain. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes and Percy's old rat."

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff — I mean, I got Scabbers instead.” Ron’s ears went pink.

“It’s just me, my dad, my aunt, and my gran,” Gwen cut in. “But they all work at the Ministry, so I spend most of my time at Ron’s place.”

A small old woman arrived at their door, pushing a cart loaded with sweets. Ron took out a lumpy package of corned beef sandwiches and Gwen was about to order three Cauldron Cakes when Harry surprisingly bought some of everything to share with them.

They went through all the Chocolate Frogs and a box of Bertie Bott’s when Ron asked Harry if he wanted to see him turn Scabbers yellow. Just as he raised his wand, their compartment door slid open, revealing the round-faced boy from earlier, and a girl with bushy brown hair who had already changed into her school robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad?” the girl asked. “Neville here has lost one.”

“No,” Harry said. However, she quickly turned her attention to the wand in Ron’s hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see, then.” She sat down next to Harry. Ron looked taken aback and suddenly grew nervous.

“Er—” He cleared his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow…turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” He waved his wand, but nothing happened.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

“I’m Ron Weasley,” he mumbled, overwhelmed by her introduction.

“Gwen Prewett.”

“Harry Potter.”

"Are you really?" Hermione said. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" Harry asked, looking dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," she said. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best — but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. We'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon.” Hermione left, taking Neville with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Ron said, throwing his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud.”

“Well, she’ll probably be in Ravenclaw, so I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” Gwen cheekily smiled at Ron, before leaning over to Harry. “It’s where the smart ones go.”

“Thanks, Gwen, very funny,” Ron retorted, elbowing her in the ribs.

“Not my fault you haven’t opened one schoolbook all summer.”

"What house are your brothers in?" Harry asked, smiling at their banter.

"Gryffindor," Ron said. "Mum and Dad were in it too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. Hufflepuff would be okay I guess, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol — I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," Ron flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

“That’s not gonna happen, Ron, trust me.” Gwen said, giving him a Peppermint Toad.

"So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?” Harry asked.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa working for Gringotts — did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles. Someone tried to rob a high security vault…Bill says it must've been a powerful dark wizard to get around Gringotts."

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news,” Gwen explained. “They haven't been caught, but they also didn’t appear to take anything, that's what's odd. Of course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens, in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked, trying to change the subject.

“Er — I don't know any,” Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron exclaimed, looking dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world—” He took off explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd seen, and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He and Gwen were taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the door slid open yet again.

Three boys entered the compartment. Two of them were thickset and looked quite menacing. They flanked a boy with platinum blonde hair and a pale, pointed face. He looked at Harry with considerable interest.

"Is it true?" the pale boy said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?” Gwen narrowed her eyes at the boy’s arrogant tone, and she suddenly had a very good idea of who he might be.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," he said, carelessly gesturing to his companions. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron forced a slight cough to hide his snigger. Malfoy looked at him with sharp disdain.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” Malfoy then finally turned to Gwen.

“And who are you, then?”

“Gwen,” she said, crossing her arms defensively.

“Gwen what?”

“Why? Do I need to check whether you approve of my family?”

“She’s my cousin,” Ron glowered, protectively leaning in front of her.

“Really?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yes, really. You think we can’t be related because she doesn’t have red hair?”

“No need to get your wand in a knot, Weasel-bee. Merlin knows you won’t be able to buy another one.” Malfoy glared at them before turning back to Harry.

“I think you'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He held out his hand, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly. Malfoy didn't go red, but Gwen happily noticed a pink tinge creeping onto his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys, it'll rub off on you.” Harry and Ron stood up in anger.

"Say that again," Ron threatened.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," Harry warned. Gwen shook her head at them. Harry and Ron couldn’t possibly have learned enough spells to fight magically, so they would have to resort to fisticuffs, but Crabbe and Goyle were far bigger than either of them.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some,” Malfoy teased, nodding to the unopened sweets next to Gwen.

Ron leapt forward when Goyle reached toward the Pumpkin Pasties, but Goyle let out a horrible yell before Ron even touched him.

Gwen had jinxed Scabbers so its sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle. Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling in pain. When Scabbers finally flew off, all three of them disappeared at once. Not a second later, Hermione had returned.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said. “No, wait — I don't believe it — he’s gone back to sleep.” He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron said, scowling at her incessant nagging.

"All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," Hermione said reproachfully. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?” Ron glared at her as she left, before sounding off on the Malfoys.

"I've heard of his family," Ron darkly muttered, while pulling on his ill-fitting black robes. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared, claimed they'd been bewitched. But Dad didn’t believe it. Said Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

“Malfoy’s father bought his innocence,” Gwen continued. “My gran said there were only a few who saw right through him.”

Her family had always warned her about the Malfoys, and she could clearly see why, now that she finally met one of them.

Then, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Gwen's stomach lurched with nerves. Harry looked unsettled and Ron went pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

When the train finally slowed to a stop, people pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over their heads.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?” The big hairy face of a half-giant beamed at them over the sea of heads.

“Yeah, thanks, Hagrid!” Harry replied.

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down a steep and narrow path.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here.” There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Hermione joined them in their boat, to Ron’s annoyance.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouted. "Right then — FORWARD!"

The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached an underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! This your toad?" Hagrid said, checking as people climbed out of the boats.

"Trevor!" Neville cried out happily, holding out his hands. They followed Hagrid’s lamp toclamber up a passageway in the rock and then walked up a flight of stone steps, to finally crowd around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?” Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch with a very stern face stood in front of them.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall.”

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The entrance hall was huge — stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. The drone of hundreds of voices could be heard from a doorway to the right but she showed the first years into a small, empty chamber just off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony. While you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.

“Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered on Neville clutching his toad and Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair, and Gwen rushed to fix her messy plait.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," the professor said. "Please wait quietly.” With that, she left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked.

"Some sort of test, I think,” Ron said. “Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

“He never said we had to do it in front of the whole school!” Gwen said, panicking.

At least it looked like everyone else was terrified, too. No one spoke much except Hermione, who whispered very fast about all the spells she knew and wondering which ones she would need.

“Quiet down now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start.” Professor McGonagall had returned.

"Now, form a line," she told the first years, "and follow me."

Gwen got into line between Ron and Hermione. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors.

The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, which were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the front of the hall was another long table where the teachers sat. McGonagall led the first years into a line between the teachers and the other students. The ghosts shone misty silver here and there, and the velvety black ceiling dotted with stars shone above them.

“It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_ ,” Gwen heard Hermione whisper.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years, and put a pointed wizard's hat on the stool. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none),_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Gwen giggled, feeling better after finding out that she wouldn’t be made to answer any gruelling questions in front of the school. Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long piece of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. There was a moments pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers. "Bulstrode, Millicent" became the first Slytherin.

“Davis, Tracey!” A nervous girl with light brown hair sat down on the stool.

“SLYTHERIN!” Gwen felt some pity for her as she reluctantly shuffled over to the Slytherin table, looking terrified of her new housemates.

Sometimes the hat shouted out the house at once, but for others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus" sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!” She almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. Ron groaned and Gwen burst out laughing at his luck.

“C’mon, Gwen, you’ve got to be in Gryffindor. Don’t leave me with _her_ ,” he said, jerking his head in Hermione’s direction.

“Ron, I can’t just tell the hat where to put me.” Despite a long history of Prewetts being sorted into Gryffindor, Gwen always wanted to be a Ravenclaw, like her late mother.

When Neville was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Then, Malfoy’s name was called. He swaggered forward and the hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, “SLYTHERIN!" He went to join Crabbe and Goyle, looking very pleased with himself. Gwen and Ron made faces at each other in disgust.

There weren't many people left now. “Moon”, ”Nott”, “Parkinson, Pansy” — a particularly mean-spirited girl pushed her way forward and was quickly sorted into Slytherin. She arrogantly strode over to the table and simpered at Malfoy while he chatted with Theodore Nott.

Next came twin girls, “Patil, Padma" and “Patil, Parvati", then "Perks", and then—

"Potter, Harry!” As he stepped forward, excited whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?”

The hat took an awfully long time with Harry, and Gwen grew even more nervous since she knew it would be her turn soon after. Though the hat covered his eyes, she saw his hands wrapped tightly around the edges of the stool, like he was trying very hard to focus on something. Finally, after an eternity, the hat loudly declared its decision.

“GRYFFINDOR!” Harry got the loudest cheer by far. He took off the hat and walked to the Gryffindor table, looking shaken but relieved. Percy stood and shook his hand vigorously, while the twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Gwen excitedly clapped for him and nudged Ron, who was elated to have at least one friend in his preferred house. She was so pre-occupied by the Gryffindors celebrating their newest member that Professor McGonagall had to call her name twice.

“Prewett, Guinevere!” She glanced at Ron, who smiled and squeezed her hand reassuringly, despite his own nervousness. She gave a weak smile back before walking forward. Harry and Hermione smiled at her and the twins each gave her a double thumbs up. However, her eyes instinctively flickered over to the Slytherin table, surprised to find Malfoy staring at her with a curious look on his face. Why would he care where she’s sorted? But she quickly pushed her thoughts to the side and pulled the hat over her head.

“Hmm, right then,” said a little voice in her ear. “Plenty of wit and determination, with a good amount of nerve and a healthy thirst for learning. An excellent candidate for Ravenclaw, to be sure, but I believe you will do even better elsewhere…”

 _Not Ravenclaw?_ she thought, suddenly taken aback. _It can’t be Gryffindor._

“No, no, not Gryffindor,” the hat replied. “A house to truly test your talents, where your loyalty and good heart will be best served.”

 _Loyalty and good heart…so Hufflepuff?_ She had to admit it wasn’t her top choice, but she could make do anywhere as long as it wasn’t—

“SLYTHERIN!” There were a few half-hearted claps from the Slytherin table, but Gwen could only hear a loud ringing in her ears as McGonagall removed the hat from her head.

She slowly made her way to the very edge of the table, and a few older students who recognised her family name scooted further away, as if blood traitors were contagious. Gwen couldn’t face the Gryffindor table, where she was sure Harry would be reconsidering their friendship and Fred and George would be looking at her like she’d gone crazy.

She did, however, spare a glance at Ron, who was still waiting to be sorted. His mouth was wide open in shock — he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t gesturing wildly in confusion, he just stared at her…like he didn’t know who she was anymore, like someone had replaced his best friend with Lord Voldemort himself. She hated it.

She fixed her gaze on the empty goblet next to her, just to avoid looking anywhere else, only raising her head when Ron’s name was finally called. He looked almost pale green now, no doubt wondering if he would be placed in Slytherin too. But he was being silly, Gwen knew exactly where he would be sorted, and the hat confirmed it just a second later when it shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Gwen quietly clapped for him as he cheerfully walked over to the Gryffindor table. _At least one of us is happy_ , she thought bitterly. She watched the others congratulate Ron, and he let himself soak in the attention for a moment. He quickly looked at her over his shoulder, but he had already turned away to take his seat before she could pull her face into smile.

“Zabini, Blaise” was the last person to be sorted, and it wasn’t long before the hat shouted, “SLYTHERIN!” The table cheered much louder for him than they had for her, and he briefly glanced at her before sitting next to Nott, across from Malfoy and his two goons.

Gwen watched Professor Dumbledore rise from his chair at the middle of the High Table. He beamed at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

Professor Dumbledore sat back down and everyone clapped and cheered. Gwen knew he was the greatest wizard alive, and her gran never missed an opportunity to praise him, but at that moment, she thought he was a little off his rocker. However, her attention was soon captured by the magnificent feast that appeared in front of her.

The empty dishes were now piled with food. Gwen knew she was spoiled by Aunt Molly’s fantastic cooking, but she never saw anything like this: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and peppermint humbugs. She took bits of whatever she could reach — the pork chops looked delicious, but it wasn’t worth asking Crabbe to pass it over.

Looking back at the High Table, she noticed a thin man with greasy black hair and a hooked nose. She realised it was Professor Snape, the head of her new house. Her dad was a few years above him at Hogwarts and said he’s been rumoured to have an affinity to the Dark Arts.

Gwen grew worried when she thought about her dad. He assured her that he would be proud no matter where she was sorted, but that was when they were both certain she would end up in Ravenclaw. What will he say when he finds out that she’s a Slytherin? Nearly every follower of Voldemort, as far as she knew, was a Slytherin.

But then she remembered that her beloved gran, the most amazing witch she knew, was also a Slytherin. She devoted her entire career in the Wizengamot to fight against pure-blood supremacy. Aunt Andromeda was a Slytherin too, and she was disowned for marrying a muggle-born.

Gwen was so engrossed in her thoughts that she hardly noticed the remainder of the food had vanished from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean. The desserts appeared a moment later. Blocks of ice cream in every flavour imaginable, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, and rice pudding.

She went for a slice of apple pie at the same time as timid girl from earlier. Gwen smiled tentatively at her, hoping to make at least one friend in her house.

“Hi, I’m Gwen,” she said softly.

“Hi, I’m Tracey.” The girl’s head was slightly bowed, so her long brown hair covered the side of her face, as if to shield herself from the rest of the table.

“Nice to meet you, Tracey.” Gwen desperately tried to wrack her brain for an interesting topic of conversation, when Tracey finally broke the awkward silence.

“I’m a half-blood, in case you wanted to know.” Suddenly, silence seemed less awkward.

“I didn’t,” Gwen said harshly. Of course, now everyone would assume she was like Malfoy, only concerned about surnames and blood status. However, she regretted taking her anger out on poor Tracey, who looked stricken.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Gwen quickly apologised. “But I don’t choose friends based on their blood status.”

“My dad’s a muggle-born. He told me things aren’t as bad as they were before, but that there are still those who cared, especially in Slytherin,” Tracey explained.

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed,” Gwen leaned in conspiratorially, “but they don’t like me very much either.” They giggled at their shared predicament and spent the rest of the feast discussing classes they were most excited about and their favourite quidditch teams.

“Chudley Canons?! But they’re at the bottom of the league every year!” Tracey protested.

“And it’ll be all the more satisfying when they do finally win,” Gwen argued. “Ron and I have been massive fans for years, so there’s no point in stopping now — isn’t it boring with Puddlemere? Takes the fun out of rooting for your team if they win all the time.”

Eventually, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Many students looked at each other with varying levels of fear.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

He gave his wand a little flick and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, rising high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!"

The school bellowed:

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. Only the twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Gwen quickly got up and rushed toward the door while most students were still grudgingly getting up from their seats, tired and full of food. She had to find Ron and tell him that nothing will change just because of her stupid house.

“Why the hurry, Prewett? Are you hoping your pathetic cousins will make you an honorary Gryffindor?” Malfoy’s lips were pulled up into an infuriating smirk that Gwen wished she could wipe off his face.

“Shut up, Malfoy. I don’t see how it’s any of your business what I do.”

“Except it is,” Pansy Parkinson interrupted, screwing her otherwise pretty face into a sneering, almost pug-like expression. “You’re a Slytherin now, unfortunately for all of us, and I think we have a right to know whether you plan to sully our reputation even further by keeping company with such filth.”

“Slytherin’s reputation was sullied long before me,” Gwen spat.

She turned around and pushed her way out of the Great Hall, but it was too late. Most of the Gryffindors had already reached the top of the marble staircase, and she saw the Slytherin prefects leading the rest of the first years through a door to the right.

Gwen didn’t desire getting lost on her first night, so she dejectedly followed her housemates, keeping to the back of the group as they went down the stone steps, descending deeper into the dungeons. They went through a few more dark, torch-lit corridors until they stopped in front of a bare stone wall.

“Chimaera,” one of the prefects said.

The concealed entrance swung open to reveal a long underground room, lit by round green lamps hanging from the low ceiling. The large windows looked out into the depths of the Black Lake, and a few grindylows could be seen swimming past. There were several low-backed black and green leather sofas, and a fire crackled under an elaborately carved mantelpiece. Tapestries of famous Slytherins adorned the walls, and Gwen felt a sudden rush of pride at the reminder that she shared a house with Merlin and Morgana.

However, the feeling was short-lived when she realised that she would also be sharing a dormitory with Pansy Parkinson. There were five four-poster beds, covered in deep green eiderdowns, and their trunks had already been placed at the foot of each bed. Gwen quickly found hers between Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. After washing up and changing into her nightclothes, she searched for her already battered copy of _The_ _Fellowship of the Ring_ — since reading about an arduous journey to destroy an all-powerful ring might sufficiently distract her from worrying about how she was going to survive Hogwarts for the next seven years.

“Ugh, I cannot believe I have to share a room with a blood traitor,” Parkinson complained loudly, crinkling her nose. “I suggest you move your bed closer to mine, Daph.”

“Listen, Parkinson,” Gwen began, annoyed at the interruption of what she hoped might be a quiet night before the start of classes. “I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do, but neither of us can do anything about it. So _I_ suggest that we just stay out of each other’s way and leave it at that.”

“How cute. Do you really think I’d lower myself to a truce with someone like _you_?”

“Of course, you’re welcome to find out exactly how many jinxes I can perform. It’s your choice.” Gwen knew she shouldn’t be picking a fight on her first night, but Parkinson looked like the sort of girl who was used to getting everything she wanted. It would feel good to burst that bubble.

“I’ll take my chances, Prewett. You see, Millicent and I grew quite close on the train.” The burly girl cracked her knuckles menacingly at the mention of her name.

“I’ve known Daphne for as long as I can remember,” Parkinson continued. The blonde in question glanced up at the scene with indifference before she resumed her writing.

“And if Davis has any sense, she won’t get involved.” Parkinson threw a pointed glare at Tracey, who nervously watched the heated exchange from the safety of her bed.

“Oh no, I’m positively shaking,” Gwen said sarcastically. She reached for her wand, a jinx on the tip of her tongue, as Bulstrode moved toward her. Tracey squeaked in fright.

“Can’t this hold off until the morning? I’d like to get some rest tonight,” Daphne cut in, boredom evident in her tone. Gwen and Parkinson stopped to look at her in surprise.

“Daphne, you’re not seriously defending _her_ , of all people?”

“No, I’d just prefer it if I could finish this letter tonight, and your little fight would be terribly inconvenient.”

“This isn’t over, Prewett. You’d better watch your back.” Gwen rolled her eyes and pulled all her curtains shut to try to drown out Parkinson’s whiny voice.

Her exhaustion from the day’s events finally sunk in. With her book laid forgotten in her trunk, she shed a few tears onto the dark green pillow before slowly drifting off to the sound of lake water softly lapping against the windows.


End file.
